Page 12 of Small City Heart
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“It is what it is. I’ve sometimes overcompensated.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlie scrunched up his nose. “My therapist has all kinds of theories, like I search for the attention and affection I was denied in other places, normally the wrong ones. I’ve been demanding and needy and ridiculous with past boyfriends because I worry about being left. I’m a mess, basically, and also an open book tonight.Yikes.”
Patrick had no idea how his hands ended up on Charlie’s shoulders, only that suddenly he was touching him, his palms sweeping and trying to soothe.
“I didn’t tell you that to trick you into touching me,” Charlie said.
“Fuck, I know. Do you feel this?” He pulled Charlie’s hand up and placed it over his hammering heart. “It’s not only my heart beating like a hummingbird, is it?”
“God, of course it’s not, Patrick.” Charlie slid his hand from Patrick’s chest, up to cup the side of his neck. “I know you’re only here for a weekend. I know you only came so your mom wouldn’t have to go alone. I know this stupid, small town is the last place you want to find someone to—” He cut himself off and shook his head.
“What? Find someone to what?”
Charlie shrugged. “Hook up with? Spend a night with? I’ve imagined this weekend for months, since your mom told me you’d be here, but it can’t be anything real, right? That’d be ridiculous.”
Why would that be ridiculous?
Because Charlie couldn’t imagine being with Patrick, with a guy who was artsy and moody and weird? Because Patrick would never fit in here? Or was it because Charlie thought Patrick was tied to Chicago with no desire to leave?
Patrick wasn’t sure he wanted to know Charlie’s reasoning.
“What did you imagine?” he asked instead.
“Kissing you.”
“Do it.”
“Here?”
Charlie’s hand tightened in Patrick’s hair, and Patrick shrugged, daring him. They were isolated at the back of the room, all alone. It was dark and hot.
Charlie crowded him farther into the corner until their bodies were so close they could feel the other’s breath.
Their lips touched, just a brush, and Patrick gripped Charlie’s biceps to hold himself steady, to stay on his feet, because that barely-there kiss had been earth-shattering. The next kiss fell on Patrick’s chin as Charlie tipped his head back, his fingers deep in Patrick’s hair. He mouthed his way across Patrick’s jaw to his ear and back, and by the time their lips brushed again, Patrick was coming out of his skin. Full-body shivers racked him, and he was aching.
Their lips never pressed fully together. When Charlie pulled back, Patrick wasn’t sure if that had been his best kiss ever or not a kiss at all.
“This whole reunion has me shaken up,” Patrick whispered. He hadn’t been home since his dad moved out, which was weird in and of itself, but now he was wondering if he could fit in here and whether everything had extra meaning and purpose.
He wanted it all out of his brain. He wanted to feel.
“What do you need?” Charlie asked.
“Will you take me home?”
“Oh. Okay. Can you not drive? Wait. How much did you have to drink?”
“Take me toyourhome. I’m real fucking sober.”
